Florescent Adolescent
by rock-the-casbah18
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy is tired of her lackluster love life. What happens when one young man decides to change that?


**Florescent Adolescent**

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and related characters. I also do not own the song, it belongs to Arctic Monkeys.

**A/N: **Is it really creepy that the first time I heard this song I thought of Blaise and Narcissa? I had, at first, wanted to make it about Draco and Mrs. Zabini, but I couldn't see him as doing that to himself. So instead, here is the product of the little plot bunny that's been jumping around for a while now.

_You used to get it in your fishnets  
Now you only get it in your night dress  
Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness  
Landed in a very common crisis  
Everything's in order in a black hole  
Nothing seems as pretty as the past though  
That Bloody Mary's lacking a Tabasco  
Remember when he used to be a rascal?_

In her Hogwarts' days, Narcissa Black Malfoy was _it_. A toss of her long, luminous hair and the boys were bowing down beneath her, practically begging to kiss her feet. When she strutted through the Great Hall, all eyes, boys and girls alike, were drawn to her as if magnetized. Bewitched boys waited on her, hand and feet, catering to her every whim. All of the other girls paled in comparison to Narcissa, except, perhaps, for Lily Evans, though she was just a ginger.

In the end, it had been Lucius Malfoy who had won her heart. Not that he had fought for it particularly valiantly; his father was the man with the twenty-million galleon paycheck and any family would've _died_ to marry their daughter off to a Malfoy. Narcissa didn't mind, as she would be cared for exceedingly well. Anything and everything she wanted was available at the tip of her fingers. Lucius and she had even been quite passionate, in the beginning, and she most certainly didn't mind that.

As the years progressed, however, things had changed. After she had birthed Draco, given Lucius an heir, things began to change. Narcissa never doubted Lucius' love for her, she just rarely ever saw it in its physical form anymore. Some nights he would come home from some meeting or another, climb in between the Egyptian cotton sheets of their bed and sweetly make love to her. Most nights, Lucius would climb into bed and immediately succumb to sleep, snoring daintily throughout the night. She knew they were growing older, Narcissa was forty-two herself, but she didn't know that meant an end to their physical relationship.

Narcissa had needs. She was a very sexual creature and wasn't fond of the neglect from her husband. Was this what marriage truly was? Shag wildly the first few months, have a child, and then stop completely? The question had been in the back of her mind for the past fifteen years of their marriage. She missed the nights where Lucius had torn the nightdress from her lithe form before pounding into her relentlessly until she saw stars, missed the nights when she had worn her special stockings just to give their love-making that extra _kick_.

Narcissa was grateful beyond belief that everything was in order for her family; they were not running from the Dark Lord anymore, the Malfoy business was running successfully, and Draco had fallen in love with some bushy-haired, know-it-all muggleborn. But still she found herself aching for those nights of passion and longing and wondering if her marriage was truly as stable as it appeared.

_Oh that boy's a slag  
The best you ever had  
The best you ever had  
Is just a memory and those dreams  
Not as daft as they seem  
Not as daft as they seem  
My love when you dream them up..._

"Madame Malfoy, you look _exquisite_ this evening," he spoke, his voice as rich and dark as the finest of chocolates. Her own son, who stood next to him, rolled his eyes and, agitated, fiddled with the lapels on his finely tailored suit.

"Why thank you, Blaise. You've grown to be quite the charming young man, haven't you," Narcissa spoke through a small smile, her heart beating in her chest. The boy, no, the _man_, in front of her was absolutely, bloody gorgeous. His slightly too-long curls gracefully framed his face, falling across his tanned forehead. His cheekbones were sharp, his nose strong and straight. Soft lips spread into a smile that was really more of a smirk, and Narcissa couldn't help but wonder what they may feel like against her own. Blaise's cerulean eyes caught her own in her appraisal and glimmered, amused, at her approval.

"Oh, Madame Malfoy, I don't believe I've changed much, per say," Blaise drawled teasingly, "I believe you've just chosen now to notice it." She quickly recovered from his words and kept her mouth from falling open unattractively. How had it been that the twenty-one-year-old had read her like a book, when even her husband couldn't be bothered with her feelings as of late? Narcissa quickly covered herself with a smile and a sip from her flute of champagne.

"What better time than the present?"

_Flicking through a little book of sex tipsRemember when the boys were all electric?  
Now when she tells she's gonna get it  
I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it  
Clinging to not getting sentimental  
Said she wasn't going but she went still  
Likes her gentlemen to not be gentle  
Was it a megadobber or a betting pencil?_

She sat in the library, perched gracefully on her favourite emerald velvet chaise lounge, a horridly pink book resting on her lap. Black framed reading glasses rested on the tip of her dainty nose as her molten silver eyes greedily scanned the pages of the book, reminiscing. Colourful cartoon drawings danced on the pages, moving in some of the most daring sexual positions she had ever seen. A familiar heat curled low in her stomach and she quickly turned through the rest of the book, thinking happy thoughts, in hopes of quelling that feeling.

Oh, how it seemed only mere days ago that she had been young and been wanted. When every single caress upon her pale skin ignited a dangerous fire, how every kiss was followed by a bolt of electricity. She missed those days, but there was no use in getting sentimental. With a final glance at a yoga-like position, Narcissa shut the book gently and tucked it into the pocket of her sapphire, silk robe. She stood from her seat and walked back through the corridors and sitting rooms to her own bedroom, curling in next to her already-asleep husband.

Earlier, he had asked her whether or not she would be attending the upcoming Gala with him. "Good publicity," he had murmured tiredly as he removed the tie from his hair, "your lady friends will be there, so I promise you won't be bored to tears." She had shrugged delicately and told him she would think about it and give him a response in the morning. She wasn't a huge fan of galas; the woman were always competing for popularity with their ostentatious dresses and horrid hair styles, and the men were always drinking too much expensive whiskey.

If she were to be completely truthful with herself, she actually wanted to go to this gala, if only for one reason. Where there were the rich and handsome, there was Blaise.

_Oh that boy's a slag  
The best you ever had  
The best you ever had  
Is just a memory and those dreams  
Not as daft as they seem  
Not as daft as they seem  
My love when you dream them up..._

"How your husband could ever neglect a body like this...," Blaise practically growled, his voice rough with unbridled lust. His large hands covered her supple breasts, kneading, flicking his thumbs over her hardened nipples. His hands were soon replaced by his mouth, as he sucked lustfully on the tiny pink buds. Narcissa's head lolled back in pleasure as her silk gown slid further down her waist. Her own tiny hands found the buttons of his white dress shirt, flicking them open hurriedly. She could barely wait to feel his warm, bronze skin under her slender fingers, could barely wait to feel the ripple of muscle as she caressed his youthful body.

He groaned as her perfectly manicured nails dragged lightly over his own nipples and he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Outside of the room they occupied, the sounds of people mingling could be heard, a piano twinkling in the distance. Distractedly, Narcissa worried what would happen if her son were to happen upon Blaise and she like this, his best friend and his mother. She ceased thinking, however, when she felt one of Blaise's long fingers delve into the heat between her legs. Narcissa moaned audibly, filling her hands with his curls, tugging softly. She knew she was more than ready for him; she was forty-four for Gods' sake, she didn't need foreplay.

Blaise seemed to sense this too and she barely recognized the sound of a zipper being lowered. Within seconds she was rendered speechless as he sunk his large member into her, setting a slow and steady pace. She opened her legs wider where she sat, on some businessman's desk, so that Blaise could have a better angle.

"Harder, Blaise," she spoke, regal and commanding. It was all she could do not to beg. After all, Malfoys never begged for anything. The Italian boy caught her eyes, a devilish smirk gracing his features. His pace did not change, and he continued to pump into her painstakingly slow.

"Faster, God dammit," Narcissa spoke harshly, her nails digging violently into his back. Blaise just grinned before slipping a hand between their bodies to gently circle her bundle of nerves. The calloused pad of his thumb was enough to make Narcissa almost scream in pleasure. She hadn't been touched by a man in so long, hadn't been given an orgasm in so long. She only hoped that this was the beginning and there would be many more to come.

"Blaise," Narcissa breathed, "please." And with that one word, all restraint was gone and Blaise tore into her viciously. His hips moved erratically, thrusting himself in and out of her at a glorious speed. She felt herself steadily climbing that peak and her walls began to tighten around him. He moved his thumb faster still and Narcissa mewled with pleasure. She was so amazingly close.

Her head fell backwards roughly as she all but howled through her orgasm. She blinked to steady her vision as her legs shook with the aftermath. She had never, ever experienced something so powerful before, not even with her own husband. Sweat dripped down her back, pooling in the dimples above her bum. Blaise continued to thrust into her, unrelenting as she begged him to stop. She was so tender from her last climax, she couldn't take anymore.

"Please, stop... stop," she murmured quietly and unconvincingly. Within a matter of seconds, her second orgasm overcame her. This time, Blaise reached his own peak with a grunt and a series of hasty thrusts. He pulled out of her before sinking to the plush oriental carpet of the office, his breathing slow and laboured. If it was possible, the boy looked even more beautiful to Narcissa now than ever before.

He was the absolute best shag she had _ever_ had.

_Falling about  
You took a left off Last Laugh Lane  
You just sounded it out  
You're not coming back again_

Narcissa gazed guiltily at her husband's sleeping form, pushing thoughts of last night from her mind. Lucius may not have been the most respectable of men, but he had always been the perfect husband, never even daring to be unfaithful. With a sinking feeling, Narcissa repeated the word over and over in her head, realising that she had cheated on the man she loved and that he would never be able to find out, as long as she lived.

She also realised that she would never, ever do that again. That night with Blaise was amazing beyond words, but it had also made her realise how bloody _lucky_ she was to have a husband that cared and loved her more than anything else in the world. With a small smile, Narcissa curled up against Lucius warm body, breathing in his familiar scent. She figured that if she simply forgot Blaise, everything would go back to normal.

Little did she know that Blaise Zabini was not one to be forgotten.


End file.
